


You Gave Me a Forever (Within the Numbered Days)

by schmulte



Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Cancer, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Inspired by The Fault in Our Stars, M/M, Major Illness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-17 23:42:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29974089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/schmulte/pseuds/schmulte
Summary: Beneath it, there is a phrase, etched into the concrete with what might have been a pocket knife before the hospital installed metal detectors, or maybe a very persistently used key card. It says:Rule 1:Don’t dieDying, Alex thinks, is the last thing someone should be thinking about while they’re smoking a cigarette and looking at a pornographic magazine. But the message still stands.The trouble is, Alex has never been one for following rules.FirstPrince the fault in our stars au
Relationships: Alex Claremont-Diaz/Henry Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, June Claremont-Diaz/Nora Holleran
Comments: 20
Kudos: 38





	1. Prologue: Go Fish

**Author's Note:**

> hello! I'm sorry for the future pain. comments and kudos are appreciated!

On the roof of Sibley Memorial Hospital, tucked in the blind spot just out of view of the access door, is a loose panel on the back of a vent that no longer works. Inside, there are three items: a crumbling box of Marlboro cigarettes, a Playboy magazine from 1998, and a half-finished bottle of Jack Daniel’s. Beneath it, there is a phrase, etched into the concrete with what might have been a pocket knife before the hospital installed metal detectors, or maybe a very persistently used key card. It says:

_ Rule 1: _

_ Don’t die _

Dying, Alex thinks, is the last thing someone should be thinking about while they’re smoking a cigarette and looking at a pornographic magazine. But the message still stands.

The trouble is, Alex has never been one for following rules. 

When he was twelve, and his lungs were just beginning to get used to their new role as being generally useless, Alex broke rule number one. 

It was midnight, and he was up past his bedtime playing Call of Duty with his only friend, Liam, and Alex had gotten a cough. Nothing immediately life-threatening, just a tickle in the back of his throat. He thought nothing of it, chugged a Mountain Dew, and went to bed. 

At three in the morning, he woke up unable to breathe. Alex was never able to breathe, not really, but this was different. This time, he could feel the burn in his throat as he gasped for air, and his head was on fire, and he couldn’t open his eyes. Something stabbed him underneath his left breast bone; he vomited up his mountain dew.

His parents took him to the hospital, and days went by in a blur of fluorescent lights and ice chips and friendly nurses who smelled like blueberry muffins. He doesn’t really remember much from then, even now. The doctors told his parents that his lungs were full of fluid, and he remembers vaguely registering the feeling of the tube they’d inserted going up his side. 

What he remembers most, though, is his parents. They had still been together at that point, and Alex had thought that maybe everything would be okay, because it was the longest they’d gone in weeks without fighting. In a fleeting moment of consciousness, he had opened his eyes just enough to see his mother, holding one of his hands, and his father, holding her by the shoulders. They were both crying. 

_ You can let go, baby, _ his mother was whispering to him.  _ Don’t be afraid. You can let go. _

Alex had closed his eyes, because letting go sounded so nice, and he wasn’t afraid. He just wanted to sleep, and to not be in pain anymore. 

He flatlined five minutes later. 

He was legally dead for one minute and fourteen seconds, but after, everything got better. The medicine started working, and the fluid drained, and he was back to his normal, as-healthy-as-he-could-be, self. He got on an experimental drug trial, was released from the hospital, and that was that. His lungs still suck at being lungs, but if the medicine keeps working and he keeps himself out of trouble, he should have a decent amount of time left. 

That is, if his mother doesn’t kill him first. 

Alex loves his mom. He really, really does, and he appreciates everything she does for him, the sacrifices she’s made to take care of him. But he doesn’t know how many more games of Go Fish he can play with her at the dining room table before he implodes. 

The problem is, he doesn’t really have any other friends. He has his mom, and his sister, June, and Cash, his favorite nurse, and Zahra, his doctor and his mom’s oldest friend. He used to have Liam, but they haven’t talked since Alex graduated last year, and Alex doesn’t blame him for not reaching out. He had been a very unpleasant teen. 

It’s after his tenth round of Go Fish that Alex calls it a night; mom has him beat 7-3, and if his life is any indicator, his luck won’t be turning around soon. He kisses his mom on the cheek, takes his evening pills, brushes his teeth, and promptly falls into bed. He bounces a little with the mattress, and the cannula in his nose pulls painfully before he readjusts. 

He checks instagram and twitter, and as usual, there’s nothing. Everyone he knew in high school is in college now, going to parties and doing things Alex will never get to do. His eight grade girlfriend, who dumped him when he lost all his hair, just got a new tattoo, a pink ribbon for her grandma, who died of breast cancer last May. Alex clicks the  _ like _ button. 

Then, because he can’t sleep and has nothing better to do on a Friday night, he exits out of Instagram and FaceTimes June. 

Alex’s older sister is probably his best friend in the entire world. She’s annoying, and pushy, and always finishes the carton of Heliados before he gets the chance, but he loves her. She’s been with him through everything- not just the cancer stuff, but all the other things, too. Whenever anything happens, June is always the first to know- his first kiss, his AP scores, his college acceptance letters. She was the first person Alex came out to when he was sixteen and realized he’s bisexual. 

She doesn’t live at home anymore, for both of their sake’s, but when it was her turn to go to college, she chose American. She swore up and down that the school’s proximity to Alex had nothing to do with the decision, but she still comes home for a weekend once a month, and stays at the house for all her breaks when she could be in Florida for spring break with her friends. 

“Alexander!” is how she greets him when the call connects. She’s smiling brightly, leaning back against what looks like a worn leather booth in a bar somewhere, and conversation is swirling loudly around her. 

“Hey, bug,” Alex says, squinting at the background. “Is this a bad time? I can call back later--”

“No, no! Hey, guys, shh, shh, it’s my baby brother. No, Pez, I’m not going to tell him that.” June laughs and swats someone out of view, and something in Alex’s chest drops. His sister has friends- actually, real friends, that aren’t adults hired to take care of her, and he’s just her lame little brother, calling on a Friday night because he has no one else. 

“What’s up, A?” her voice cuts in again. “Mom beat you at Go Fish again?”

Alex groans and scrubs a hand across his face. “Seven times. When are you coming home again?”

“Not for another two weeks.  _ But _ , if you’re lonely--”

“June.”

“You could always--”

“You know what her answer is going to be.” 

It’s the hundredth time they’ve had this conversation, at least. Every weekend, Alex is stuck inside playing cards with his mom, and every weekend, June suggests he come visit her at college for a couple days. And every weekend, his mom says no. 

On paper, Alex is an adult. He’s nineteen, sure. But he lives at home, and his parents bought him his car, and he’s sick. Most importantly, he’s sick. And even though American is only two hours away, the answer is always,  _ always _ , no. 

June’s face is sober, now, and Alex feels immediately guilty for ruining her fun night out. 

“Alex,” she says, quietly, more seriously. “You’ve got to stand up to her one of these days. You’re missing out on life.”

He could make a snide comment about how he doesn’t have much life left to miss out on, but he doesn’t. It’s not the time, not when June is looking at him like that. He closes his eyes for a moment, and takes as deep a breath as he can. 

“I’ll ask her.”

June smiles again, like sunshine parting through clouds, and Alex can breathe a little easier, metaphorically. 

“Amazing. Love you, baby bro.”

“Love you too, bug.”

The next morning, Alex pushes a blueberry around on his plate and wonders how hard it would be to fake his own death.

His mom is in School Superintendent Ellen Claremont Mode, pacing around the kitchen with heels in one hand and frowning at her phone in the other like it’s personally wronged her. Alex vaguely remembers her telling him about funding for school lunches the other day. From the look on her face, he can tell it’s not going her way. Faking his death and running away to American would be easier than getting her attention right now.

“Eat your food, sugar,” she comments in passing, not looking up from the screen. Alex straightens up in his chair and clears his throat as loud as he can. 

“Mom?” he tries. Nothing. “Mom. Mom. Mom.” Still nothing. He throws a blueberry in her general direction; it whizzes past her and lands in the sink, but she turns her head.

“Hm?” then, more panicked. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Oh,” she visibly relaxes, then turns her gaze back to her phone. “Give me a second, baby, let me just finish up this email...okay...done.” She sets the heels and the phone down and leans forward with her elbows on the counter. “Talk to me.”

He puts down his fork and rolls his shoulders back, trying his best to look like a responsible adult who can be trusted with a weekend away at his sister’s dorm. 

“I want to go visit June for the weekend.”

Ellen sighs, looking exactly how she has every time they’ve had this conversation. “Alex, we’ve talked about this.”

“It would only be two days,” he rushes out. “I’d bring my oxygen and my meds, and June knows what to do if there’s an emergency. I can go to the medical center on campus if I need to. I’ll even get Zahra’s permission, first.” His mom pinches her nose in the distinct way that always comes before  _ no _ , and Alex scrambles. “I know you’re worried, but plenty of kids who are way worse off than me do stuff like this all the time, I...I don’t have any  _ friends _ , mom. All I do is sit in this house and take online classes and play cards, and I love you, I do, and I appreciate everything you do for me so,  _ so _ much. But I’m dying, mom. Keeping me in here isn’t going to stop that, and I don’t want to die before I’ve even had the chance to live.”

He knows he’s said too much. He knows from the way his breathing is laboured, and from the stuttering rise and fall of his chest, and from the look in his mother’s eyes. It’s the look she gives him when he’s in bed with a fever and can only eat ice chips. It’s the look she gave him when she sat him down and told him about the divorce. It’s the look she gave him before he died. Immediately, he backpedals. 

“Mom, I--”

Ellen holds up one hand, and Alex shuts his mouth. She takes a breath, closes her eyes, and says two words he doesn’t think he’s ever heard from her before. 

“You’re right,” she sighs again, heavy and tired. There’s bags under her eyes; Alex hadn’t noticed that before. “You’re right, Alex. You’re nineteen, you should be going to parties and falling in love, and experiencing so many wonderful things that everyone else your age gets to do.”

“I doubt I’ll find love in June’s dorm room,” Alex tries to joke. Ellen rolls her eyes affectionately and ruffles his curls. 

“Sarcastic little shit,” she sighs a third time, and Alex is in awe of her lung capacity. “You’re going to see Zahra before you go. You’re going to pack extras and I’m going to call the student health center and make sure they know you’re coming. No drinking, no drugs, absolutely no smoking, and if there is so much as a tickle in your throat, you come home.”

Alex almost knocks over his plate on his way to hug her.

  
  



	2. Accept the Things I Can Not Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alex visits June at her dorm.  
> CW for mentions of depression and hospital stays

“Meds?”

“Packed.”

“Extra tubes?”

“Packed.”

“Toothbrush?”

“Packed.”

“Condoms?”

“Mom!”

It’s the third time they’ve gone over the list, checking and rechecking all morning that Alex has all the essentials for his weekend away. His mom is very obviously barely holding it together, but she hasn’t rescinded her permission, and Alex wants to get out as quickly as possible before she changes her mind. Now, he kind of wishes she would, because she’s pulling a paper baggy out of her purse that’s labeled  _ Planned Parenthood  _ and placing it in his backpack. 

“There’s some helpful pamphlets in there, too,” she explains without a hint of humor. “I can’t stop you from having sex, but I can make sure you’re prepared.” Alex can feel his ears turning red, and he’s pulled into a tight hug before he can make a quick escape, a wet kiss placed to his cheek. “Have fun. Be safe. I love you.”

“Love you too, mom.”

As soon as he’s in the car, he tosses the bag of condoms in the glove compartment and promptly forgets all about them. He’s taking the Jeep his dad bought him for his sixteenth birthday, doors on but top down to let in the warm-ish spring air. It’s a two hour drive, and Alex spends the time singing along loudly and terribly to his _ Windows Down, Volume Up  _ playlist. It’s one of the hobbies he’s picked up in his never-ending boredom; he has a playlist for every emotion and scenario known to man. June’s the only one who listens to them, and even then Alex doesn’t think she  _ really  _ listens, so Alex considers them gifts to himself.

His favorite is the first one he ever made; He created it in a fit of restless boredom and annoyance during a 2-week hospital stay when he was seventeen. His mom had left him with a little portable radio on his bedside table, but the only station that worked was oldies, and Alex was going to strangle himself with his cannula if he had to hear  _ Hound Dog _ one more time. He downloaded Spotify, and the rest is history. Now he adds a new song every month to celebrate that he’s lived another thirty days, give or take. 

Looking back on it, those two weeks in the hospital shaped Alex more than his four years of high school. Before then, he didn’t really have any hobbies. He was on the lacrosse team, technically, but they never let him play; it was pretty common knowledge that he was let on the team out of pity. He wasn’t in clubs or after-school activities, and his mother had started throwing the word  _ depression _ around until it finally all got back to Zahra. 

_ Depression is a very common side effect of cancer, Alex,  _ she had told him.  _ It’s nothing to be ashamed of.  _

Alex thought, still thinks, that that’s a ridiculous statement. Depression isn’t a side effect of cancer; it’s a side effect of dying. 

But he was sixteen and powerless, and then he was stuck in the hospital and in desperate need of the hobbies he had argued against for so long. So, playlists to start; Cash taught him to play ukulele, June’s girlfriend, Nora, taught him how to crochet. And one day, when he’d escaped up to the hospital roof, he found a worn paperback tucked in between the magazine and the cigarettes. 

It’s called  _ The Waterloo Letters,  _ and Alex has read it at least a hundred times. He’s never been a big reader, and when he does he prefers nonfiction, and he most definitely hates books about cancer. But this book.  _ This _ book.

It’s a story told through love letters, and it’s pretty obvious one of them has cancer, but he loves fiercely and endlessly in a way that makes the romantic in Alex a little jealous. The thing, though, is the ending. The book just...stops, halfway through a love letter. Alex knows how it’s supposed to be about the suddenness of death and all that, but nevertheless, it really pisses him off. He’s written dozens of emails to the writer, Rafael Luna, but after the book was published, he moved to the English countryside and became a recluse. Alex is going to find him one day, though, and force him to answer his questions. 

June is waiting for him when he pulls up to the student parking lot, and he’s barely halfway out of the car before she’s collecting him in a tight hug. 

“June,” Alex gasps against her shoulder. “Can’t breathe.”

“Sorry!” she jumps back, smiling guiltily, and Alex takes a breath. “Sorry. How was the drive?”

Alex shrugs. Honestly, it was the best two hours he’s had in a really long time, but he’s not about to admit that to his older sister.

June’s dorm is a cramped apartment-style, tucked into the corner of Nebraska Hall. The shelves are packed full of items, crystals and decks of tarot cards mixed in with knitting needles and books; the university-provided couch is covered in threadbare thrift store pillows of varying colors and sizes, and a worn shag rug from the 70s is plush beneath Alex’s shoes. It smells like incense and cinnamon and so like June that it’s almost overwhelming. He wishes he could live here forever, just stay on June’s couch and never leave. She’d probably let him, too. 

Nora’s sitting up on one of the countertops, one ankle crossed over the other, a pencil twisted into a loose bun. She smiles and gives Alex a fist bump. 

“Nice backpack, Alejandro,” she says with a smirk. Alex rolls his eyes and gives a light shove to her shoulder. The slim backpack that contains his oxygen tank is one of his most prized possessions; it’s worn and falling apart at the seams, covered in patches and pins and sharpied song lyrics. Nora thinks it makes him look like a nerd. 

“Fuck you,” he responds without malice. 

Nora and June hug, and there’s a discussion of plans for the day. A tour of campus for Alex, then shopping because  _ no, you can’t wear basketball shorts to meet my friends, Alex _ , and then plans to meet June and Nora’s friends at five. It all sounds great, and June and Nora seem excited, but to be honest, Alex can’t bring himself to focus on the conversation. He hates himself for it, but he’s been standing too long and his meds are making him nauseous, and he’s just so _ tired. _

“Alex?” June asks, pulling him from his dazed state. “You okay?”

Alex scrubs a hand across his face as if it’ll erase his exhaustion. “Honestly, that all sounds great, and I’m really excited, but do you think we could push it back just an hour? I really, really need a nap.”

June’s face turns sympathetic, and Alex hates how quiet her voice is when she speaks. “Yeah. Yeah, of course, Alex. I’ll go grab you a blanket.”

When Alex wakes up, it’s to five missed calls and eight texts from his mom. He got to campus an hour ago, and he hasn’t texted her. Shit. 

He moves to get up, but he can hear June whisper-yelling in the way she only does when she’s talking about him, so he stays wrapped up in his cocoon and breathes as quietly as possible.

“He just forgot, mom” he hears her say. “He’s allowed to make mistakes. Yeah, I’ll tell him. Okay. Bye.” She distinctly does not say _ I love you _ .

Alex takes his cue to fake wake up, yawning exaggeratedly and stretching as far as his aching limbs will go. June crosses over to the couch and ruffles his hair. She does not mention the phone call. 

“How’re you feeling?” she asks gently. Alex gives his winningest smile and a thumbs up. 

“Awesome. Think that nap cured my cancer.”

June frowns and flicks him in the forehead. “Don’t be a shit. Seriously, we don’t have to go anywhere today. We can just hang out and watch a movie if you’re not up to it.”

“I’m fine, really. Look,” he takes a dramatic breath in and out, and it only makes him slightly lightheaded. “See? Besides, I didn’t come all the way here just so you could make me watch The Notebook again.”

“If I remember correctly,” Nora cuts in from the kitchen. “You cried like a baby at the ending.”

Alex waves a hand. “Irrelevant. Really, I’m fine, let’s go.”

The tour of campus is great. Nora and June bicker over which places to show him and their conflicting stories of campus legends, and they wave to classmates and friends while they walk the path. It makes Alex happy to see his sister thriving here. But it also makes him a little sad. 

He sees the campus library, and wonders if he’d be there in another life, surrounded by books and pencils and pens, diligently writing notes or studying for midterms. He wonders, if he went here, if he might have friends. Maybe a boyfriend or a girlfriend. 

Nora manages to get him out of his basketball shorts and into a respectable pair of jeans, and June dresses up his Georgetown crewneck by layering a button up underneath. They both say the look is trendy; Alex kind of thinks he looks like a tool.

At five, they meet June and Nora’s friends at a local pizza place. It’s dirty and crowded, and the red leather booth is cracked, and dozens of people have carved their initials into the dark wood walls. It’s a lover’s tradition; couples who have their initials carved are supposed to stay together forever. 

June and Nora’s friends are the most interesting thing in the entire restaurant. There’s Pez, a boy with impossibly white hair and wearing a pink studded Gucci jacket; Shaan and Amy, grad students they met at yoga, and Henry. Henry, who has a beautiful, slender face and perfectly pink lips, looking so out of place in his button down and sweater vest. There’s a gold ring on his right ring finger, reflecting in the dim light above them as he taps his fingers nervously on the table. He’s seated across from Alex, and it takes him a moment to notice he’s looking  _ right at him. _ Just staring, boring holes through him with those impossibly blue eyes. Alex raises an eyebrow, and the corner of Henry’s mouth twitches upward, but he doesn’t look away. 

It’s a strange feeling for Alex. It’s as if he and Henry are the only ones there, in this little booth in a pizza place. He can hear the conversation around them, but only distantly, as if it’s taking place across the room and not right next to them. Henry is the fixated point of his vision; for a moment, his mind tricks him into believing that the lack of air in his lungs is due to Henry’s unwavering gaze. The steady thrum of his heart quickens when one blue eye winks. 

Then Pez makes a stupid joke, and the laughter is jarring, and they’re no longer alone.

“So, Alex,” Pez coos, flashing a coy smile that says he’s been caught. “Georgetown, hm?”

“Oh,” Alex looks down at his sweatshirt, suddenly embarrassed. “Yeah. Just online classes, though.”

“Any idea of what you’d like to do in the future?” Shaan asks. 

“I’d like to be a lawyer, if I live long enough to pass the bar.”

The joke does not land. June gives him a scolding look, and Henry’s face pales. He excuses himself shortly after to go to the bathroom; Nora swats the back of Alex’s head. 

“Way to ruin the mood, asshole.”

By the time Henry comes back from the bathroom, the color has returned to his cheeks, and Pez has everyone laughing again. There are plans made to head back to June and Nora’s dorm for drinks, and they all agree to walk together. Alex would really rather not, but he doesn’t want to bring down the group again. 

He hangs in the back, watching Henry’s slightly awkward gait beside him. His bag feels heavy on his back, and the walk is starting to get to him. Henry slows down to match his pace. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, and  _ oh _ . His voice is like butter, and the concern in his tone does something to the muscles in Alex’s knees. 

“Fine,” he huffs out, feeling distinctly not fine. 

“Could I...I don’t know. Carry that for you?” Henry gestures to the backpack. 

“Might be a little awkward. You’d have to walk pretty slow.”

“I don’t mind. Here,” he lifts the backpack from Alex’s shoulders, and the relief is instant. He really needs to get the kind that rolls on the ground. It’s a little awkward, the cannula running from Henry’s back to Alex’s nose, but they make it work. Henry points to the varsity lacrosse patch on one of the straps. “You play lacrosse?”

Alex snorts. “No. I mean, I was on the team, but I was just a benchwarmer. No one wants to play against the kid with cancer.”

“Ah,” Henry nods, and points to another. “And this one?”

“June made me that during her cross stitch phase.”

He points to a quote written in silver sharpie, reading it aloud carefully. “‘ _ I wonder sometimes what is the point of me _ .’ Not particularly cheery, is it?” 

“Oh, it’s just a quote from this book I like.”

June snorts from where she’s walking ahead of them, and Alex curses her superhuman hearing. 

“ _ Like _ ?” she shouts. “He only reads it every day.”

Alex flips her the bird, and she blows him a kiss and turns back around, having now sufficiently embarrassed him in front of her hot friend. Henry is, mercifully, smiling gently, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

“What’s it about?”

“Oh, trust me, you don’t want me to go down that rabbit hole.”

Henry pauses for a moment, considering. “Alright. I suppose I’ll just have to read it then.”

“Oh, no, no, you don’t have to--”

“I want to. I believe you can learn a lot about a person from their favorite book; and I’d like to learn everything about you.”

Alex shuts up after that. They get back to the apartment, and Nora puts a record on and starts distributing beers. Before they drink, the group gathers in a circle and raises their beers. 

“To accepting the things we cannot change,” June calls. 

“And changing the things we cannot accept,” the group responds. They all drink and disperse themselves about the living room; Pez flops down next to Alex on the couch. 

“Kind of a weird toast,” Alex comments. Pez laughs, bright and cheerful. 

“It’s our mantra,” he explains as if that’s supposed to mean anything to Alex. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard June say it before.”

“Mantra for what?”

Pez turns to June and fixes her with a questioning gaze. “Does he not know?”

June looks suddenly embarrassed; Nora puts a hand on her thigh and speaks for her. 

“We all met in a campus support group.”

“But, we mostly just get together and drink.”

Alex is about to ask for what, but then it clicks. The silence after his joke, Henry running to the bathroom. “Oh...y’all have…?”

“Well, June and I don’t, obviously, but we go because we know you. Amy’s wife’s got breast cancer, Shaan’s in remission, so is Henry.”

Alex fixes his gaze on Henry, who gives a sheepish smile and lifts his left pant leg. The leg underneath is, distinctly, plastic. “Osteosarcoma.”

“And  _ I _ ,” Pez says casually from beside Alex, “am currently suffering from retinoblastoma, and shall be going blind soon, and my dearest, best friend Henry has denied my final request.”

Henry pinches the bridge of his nose. “For the last time, I am  _ not _ showing you my penis.”

“You are no fun.”

The mood noticeably shifts again, and everything is lighter and more friendly after they’ve all had their second beer. Henry and Alex talk and talk and talk, and Henry’s eyes are so blue and his mouth is so kissable that Alex has to pull himself away before he does something stupid. He excuses himself to the kitchen for another drink, and Nora corners him, arms folded across her chest. 

“Uh oh, what did I do?”

She rolls her eyes. “You’re not in trouble. I just want to make sure you’re not making any more of those stupid jokes around Henry.”

“I get it, I get it. But he’s in remission, and Pez isn’t terminal, so I don’t really see why--”

“Alex, Henry’s dad died of lung cancer.”

Alex is the biggest asshole in the world. 

“Oh. Shit.”

“Yeah,  _ oh shit.  _ So no more talking about dying, okay?” Alex nods, and Nora pinches his cheek. “I love you, even if you are an asshole.”

He spends the rest of his night lying on his back on the shag rug, laughing at dumb jokes and sneaking glances at Henry’s lips wrapped around his bottle, at the way his slender fingers tap endlessly on his knees. It’s all a haze of Henry and music and more Henry, and somehow, he finds himself still on the carpet, head on Henry’s chest, while Pez is passed out on the couch and Nora and June have gone to their room. 

“Hey,” Alex says in a brief moment of clarity. “I just want to say right now, I just want to be friends.”

“That’s alright,” Henry yawns, a hand coming up to play in Alex’s hair. “I’ll wait.”

Alex doesn’t take the time to correct him, because Henry’s heartbeat is steady against his ear, and his hand is warm where it rests on his shoulder. He falls asleep, and dreams of ocean blue eyes and the upturned corner of a mouth.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if I made Alex's Windows Down, Volume Up playlist and linked it in the next chapter, would y'all listen? lmk in the comments!


	3. Masochist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter, dialogue heavy chapter today !  
> Windows Down, Volume Up: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7MaTfaqvrLIbE7fWxfCalZ?si=p3fVpw7WQ4KzX40j3rfp9A

The next morning, after everyone’s changed and sufficiently bitched about their hangovers, Alex sits next to Henry in a booth at Ihop and seriously reconsiders his _no dating_ rule. Last night was the best sleep he’s gotten in a long time, the rise and fall of Henry’s chest beneath his cheek keeping his restless mind soothed. He had woken up like that, Henry’s arm snaked around his waist, and was almost sad to get up. Henry had looked so beautiful in the morning light; it was almost impossible to look away.

Some people just aren’t meant to fall in love. And Alex is fine with that; he has love in other forms. He loves his sister and his mom, and they love him, and hopefully he can find that same feeling with this new group of friends. He can be friends with Henry, even though his hand feels perfect splayed across Alex’s hip, even though his smile makes his chest seize up in a new and unfamiliar way. 

Henry is beautiful and happy now, a perfect prince charming even as he laughs with his mouth full of pancake. Conversation is light and easy, and Henry’s hand rests gently on the seat between them, his pinkie just brushing the side of Alex’s thigh. Henry looks over at him and winks; Alex smears his cheek with whipped cream. 

Leaving is hard. June hugs him tight and makes him promise to call, and Nora punches his shoulder, which is about her equivalent of saying _I love you_. He promises Pez he’ll come back before his surgery; he does not promise to get a picture of Henry’s dick for him. 

When he gets to Henry, he smiles that easy smile and holds out his hand, palm up, as if expecting a gift. Alex raises an eyebrow.

“Give me your phone,” Henry commands, but it’s in such a light, kind way that Alex feels himself reaching into his pocket before he can think. 

“What are you doing?” He asks, watching Henry type with mild concentration. It takes most of his energy not to focus on how the tip of his tongue pokes out between his lips. 

“Giving you my phone number. If I’m going to read this book of yours, I need to at least be able to talk to you about it.” He hands it back and registers that Henry’s sent himself a text so he’ll have Alex’s number. It’s a heart emoji; the tips of Alex’s ears turn red. 

“No booty calls,” Alex jokes. Henry puts on a caricature of a serious face and raises three fingers to the side. 

“Scout’s honor.”

Alex makes a very conscious effort not to think about Henry in a uniform. 

He doesn’t hear from Henry for another week. By this point, he thinks Henry might be ghosting him, and he’s disappointed despite himself. It should be a good thing; maybe Henry’s backing off, sticking to the _just friends_ thing. Alex can’t figure out why the thought bothers him so much. 

Then, at two in the morning, when Alex is awake (because he always is) and watching _The West Wing_ in his pyjamas, his phone vibrates once. Then twice. Then three times. 

**2:13 am**

**Henry <3**

Please tell me my copy is missing the last thirty pages. 

**2:13 am**

**Henry <3**

Oh my god, is that really it?

**2:13 am**

**Henry <3**

Alex, please tell me this is your idea of a prank. 

Alex laughs, a little too loudly for so early in the morning, and texts back embarrassingly fast. 

**2:14 am**

not a fan of the ending, huh

**2:15 am**

**Henry <3**

You are a masochist if this is your favorite book.

**2:15 am**

**Henry <3**

Who does Rafael Luna think he is? I’m going to sue for emotional damages.

Suddenly, Alex’s phone is ringing in his hands, and he’s paralyzed as he looks at the name on the lock screen. _Henry <3\. _His face already hurts from smiling when he puts the phone to his ear. 

“Alex,” Henry breathes in his crisp accent, and _oh_ , he likes the way he says his name way too much. 

“Welcome to the sweet torture of reading _The Waterloo Letters_.”

“I just don’t understand it! What kind of sadist ends a story in the middle of a sentence?”

“The same kind of sadist who only writes one book and then fucks off to the English countryside to become a recluse.”

There’s a loud wailing in the background, and Alex nearly jumps out of his skin. Henry, however, seems unfazed. “I’ve been wanting to call you all week, but I was waiting until I finished. Why are you up, by the way? It’s quite early.” 

More wailing, and the sound of something breaking. 

“I have trouble sleeping- are you okay?”

“I’m fine, aside from the general heartbreak of finishing this book. Pez, however, is in the midst of a nervous breakdown.”

“Shouldn’t you be comforting him?”

“He prefers to handle things himself. I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t break anything too expensive.”

“Is he okay?”

“He’ll be fine,” he pauses to allow for the sound of another large crash. “We were testing a new feature on this ridiculously gory video game he loves, so that he would already know how to use it after the surgery. You’re supposed to be able to speak to the game and it speaks back, so you don’t have to see the controller. But, we had some technical difficulties, and Pez got frustrated, and...here we are. He’s currently destroying a china set I inherited from my grandmother.”

Alex winces. “Isn’t that, like. A valuable family heirloom?”

“Yes, but she was also a homophobic tyrant, so I won’t much miss them. Honestly, I’m not sure why she gave them to me in the first place. Anyway, I couldn’t stop thinking about the book, and Pez gave me permission to call you so I’d stop, and I quote, ‘whining like a little bitch.’”

Alex lays down in his bed and gets comfortable, closing his laptop on his current episode. “So what did you think? Besides wanting to sue for emotional damages.”

“It was wonderful. The only problem is the ending. I mean, I understand that Declan died, or got too sick to keep writing, or whatever it means, but that doesn’t _mean_ we shouldn’t get to know what happens to everyone else.”

“No one knows. I’ve written him at least fifty emails, but like I said, he moved to some cottage in the English countryside and doesn’t talk to anyone. I think he became a sheep herder, or something.”

“Honestly, the audacity of that man- Pez! Not that one, that was my dad’s.”

Alex’s mouth goes very, very dry. Henry’s dad; another reason why this is so obviously not a good idea. He’d gotten so caught up in the conversation, the flirtatious tone of Henry’s voice, he almost forgot. Guilt creeps up in his throat like bile. 

“Alex? Are you still there?”

“Yeah,” he clears his throat. “Yeah, I. I’ve gotta go. Tell Pez I hope he feels better.”

He hangs up before Henry can respond. At three am, he looks at his phone one more time before he goes to sleep, and there’s another text from Henry. 

**3:03 am**

**Henry <3**

Pez says thank you, and he has sufficiently destroyed my room. I’m reminded of a 

quote from your book. It’s not terribly romantic, but I think it’s appropriate.

**3:03 am**

**Henry <3**

_I love you terribly, and I want you back here soon.I need your help picking a_

_new bed for my room; I’ve decided to get rid of that gold monstrosity._

_Shit,_ Alex thinks. _I am so fucked._

  
  



	4. North Star

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He called him the North Star once. That wasn't bright enough."

  
  
  


The weeks come and go. Alex sticks to his routine; doctor’s appointments, medications, online classes, cards games with his mom. It’s all the same as before, but it’s  _ better _ , because now he has Henry interspersing himself throughout his day. Sending him good morning texts and quotes from queer literature, sending bored jokes from lectures, selfies from parties with June. 

Alex told himself he wasn’t going to let himself get too deep into it. He thought that maybe, after finishing the book, Henry might stop trying to contact him. But then a text came the next day, and Alex had responded, and they hadn’t stopped. They call each other in the late hours of the night when neither can sleep and fall asleep to the rhythm of each other’s breathing. Alex will find himself having a bad day, and then Henry will text him the link to a song and say _ this made me think of you, _ and it’s not so bad anymore. 

“So,” his mom says over dinner one night, when Alex is not-so-discreetly texting underneath the table. “Who are they?”

“Hm?” Alex asks, not looking up from his lap. “Who’s who?”

“The person who’s making you smile like a lovesick puppy right now.”

That makes Alex look up. It’s true, he’s been smiling at the picture Henry sent him for so long his cheeks are sore, but that doesn’t make getting called out on it any better.

“So?” his mom continues, eyebrow arched and lips pursed in a smirk. “Who is it?”

“No one,” Alex puts his phone away and pushes his food around with his fork. “Just a friend.”

“A friend who makes you blush like that?”

“I am not--”

“Alex, sugar, you’re red as a beet.”

“He’s just a friend, mom. I don’t date, you know that.”

Ellen sighs lightly. “I wish you would. You deserve to have someone who makes you happy.”

“Can we just drop it? I really don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

His mom reaches over and pats the top of his hand, giving a small, sad smile. “Of course, baby.”

“Can I be excused? Please?”

“You’ve hardly touched your plate.”

“I’m not hungry.”

He leaves before she can say no. He knows he should apologize, later, but he’s tired and nauseous and he can’t stop thinking about Henry’s stupid smile and the way he looks in the morning. He needs to get a grip. He needs to throw himself on his bed and scream into a pillow. He needs a drink. He needs--

Henry’s calling. It’s almost embarrassing, the way he nearly drops his phone in an attempt to get it out of his pocket as quickly as possible. 

“Hello?”

“Hi, love,” Henry says, and Alex can hear the smile in his voice. It’s a new thing for Alex,  _ love _ . It’s not something he’s ever been called, and he doesn’t think he would like it if it were coming from the mouth of anyone else. It makes something flutter in his chest every time he hears it. “Are you busy?”

Alex knows he should say yes. That’s he’s busy, that he’s sick and he doesn’t need a relationship, especially not with Henry, who’s father died of fucking  _ lung cancer _ . He should say he’s on his way to the airport and going to Costa Rica and never coming back. He should say he’s dying, and there’s not enough time left in his life to fall in love. His telomeres are shortening, his lungs are decaying, he’s _ busy. _

“No,” he says instead.

“Oh, good, I need your help with something. You see, I was pacing in my room, as usual, waxing poetic with Pez about a very mean boy whom I like very much--”

“Henry.”

“-And he suggested we make an ice cream run. ‘But Pez!’ I said. ‘You can’t come with me, you’re blind!’”

“I’m not sure how him being blind makes him unable to come with you to get ice cream.”

“Quiet, you, I’m telling a story. So Pez says, ‘Well you need someone to go with you! Why not invite this boy you like so much?’”

“Henry,” Alex tries to sound serious, but he’s biting back a smile. “Where are you right now?”

“Look out your window.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Alex crosses the room to his window and draws back the curtains- and sure enough, there’s Henry, leaning out the window of his car and waving with the phone to his ear. Alex covers his mouth to hide his grin. 

“You’re a crazy person. You are actually insane.”

“Come on, then,” Henry says. “Time is wasting.”

The thought that this is a bad idea crosses Alex’s mind once or twice while he gathers his coat and backpack, but it’s quickly pushed to the backburner when he sees Henry, smiling and bright-eyed in the driver’s seat of his car. 

“Did you seriously drive all the way here to get ice cream?” Alex asks after he’s buckled himself in.

“No,” Henry says, turning the keys in the ignition. It takes a few tries before the engine comes to life, and Henry starts his clumsy reversal out of the driveway. “I drove all the way here to get ice cream with  _ you _ .”

Alex rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling, and he marvels at this man sitting besides him. This man who sends him queer poetry and pictures of his dog, usually one right after the other at three in the morning. He’s an anomaly onto himself, and he really wishes he would stop being so goddamn perfect, because right now he’s making it really hard to not fall in love with him.

The only thing about Henry that isn’t perfect is his driving. The car jerks to sudden stops and starts, and Alex is glad there’s no one else on the road at this time of night. He wonders how it’s possible this man ever got his license.”

“I took the driving test three times,” Henry says, as if reading Alex’s mind. “After the third try, I think they felt kind of bad for me. I believe the instructor’s exact words were ‘your driving, while unpleasant, is not technically unsafe.’ It was complete bullshit, and I totally milked the whole missing leg thing just a bit, but I got my license.”

“Isn’t your left leg the one that’s gone though? That wouldn’t affect your driving.”

Henry grins guiltily. “I, er, may have left that part out.”

They stop at Dairy Queen, and Henry gets a ridiculously large milkshake, and Alex makes the mistake of making direct eye contact while he’s sucking on his straw. Alex gets himself a rootbeer float that Henry teases him relentlessly about, and soon they’re lying on the hood of Henry’s car, sticky fingers barely grazing between them, looking up at the stars. 

“My father taught me all the constellations,” Henry says quietly, pointing up at the sky. “That one there is Orion, and over there is the North Star. It’s not actually the brightest star in the sky, you know; that’s actually the Dog Star, Sirius.”

Henry keeps talking about the stars- how to find them, how to map them, how to use them -but Alex isn’t listening. He’s watching, head turned to the side so his cheek rests against the front windshield of the car, taking in the sight before him. Henry, with a little bit of milkshake stained on the collar of his shirt, speaking animatedly with his hands, looking happier than Alex has ever felt. 

The space between their hands is so infantasmally small, it would take only the slightest of movements to touch. But closing such a small distance would mean opening up to other things- how would Henry interpret it, if they held hands? Would it count as leading him on if Alex wanted it just as much?

Silently, Alex turns his eyes towards the sky and takes Henry’s hand. 

By the time Henry drops Alex back off at home, the stars have disappeared, and the sky is dusted pink with the sunrise. They’d stayed out all night, lying on the hood of Henry’s car, holding hands. Alex had been cold at some point, despite having his jacket on, and Henry had wordlessly wrapped him up in his sweatshirt. Alex buries his nose in the front of it in the passenger’s seat of the car, inhaling the scent of Earl Grey and smoke and something sweet like lavender. 

“Can I call you?” Henry asks, eyes wide and hopeful. “I get so bored driving by myself.” 

Alex gives a tired smile; he’s too warm and happy to listen to his inhibitions. He leans over and kisses Henry’s cheek, watching with satisfaction as the tips of his ears turn red. Henry clears his throat. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

Alex says goodbye and goes inside before he does something stupid, and Henry calls him not five minutes later. The little rush that comes with seeing Henry’s name light up on his phone nearly knocks Alex off his feet; or maybe he’s just tired. Either way, he makes sure to tuck himself into bed before answering, just in case. 

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Thank you for coming with me tonight. I don’t know what I would have done if I showed up and you said no.”

“Looked like an idiot, probably.” Henry laughs, and Alex listens to the sounds of the road and thinks back on their night. “Hey. That stuff you said about your dad was really cool. I wish I could have met him.”

For a moment, Henry is quiet, and Alex fears he may have overstepped. Then, Henry sighs, and says quietly, “He would have loved you.”

“Do you miss him a lot?”

“Sometimes. But other times I’ll forget that there was ever a time when it wasn’t just my mum and Bea and Philip, and I feel horrible for days.”

Alex fights sleep off, eyelids growing heavy. “How long ago was it?”

“I was nineteen, but the cancer he’d had since I was sixteen.”

“Jesus,” Alex breathes. “Three years…”

“Not the longest life span, no. But every moment with him was sacred.”

Alex swallows, allows for a pause. Henry’s breathing is a little labored from the other end; he thinks he might be crying, or about to. “I died, once, you know. A little after the cancer started spreading to my lungs. My mom says it’s why I’ve lived so long with it- I’ve already paid my dues.”

Henry laughs wetly. “You amaze me sometimes, Alex. I’m angry I didn’t get to meet you sooner.”

“Well, you have me now.” He yawns, and Henry chuckles again. 

“Go to sleep, Alex.”

“Okay.” He doesn’t hang up. Henry pauses a moment before saying, 

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

Alex falls asleep before he can hang up, and wakes up to a single text from Henry. 

**7:25 am**

**Henry <3**

_ “He called him the North Star once. That wasn’t bright enough.” _

  
  



	5. Spring Break

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "You are good."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> whoo. This chapter. Wow. It took a lot out of me to write, and it's my baby. I may or may not have had to hold back tears writing it. Please be kind in the comments :)

  
If Alex thought convincing his mom to let him go two hours away for the weekend was hard, it’s nothing compared to this. 

It’s Henry’s fault, really, that she’s being so stubborn. Ellen was...less than thrilled to find out about their late-night ice cream adventure. She’s been better lately, she has, but there’s a certain amount of trust she requires, and Alex sneaking out and staying out all night with a boy he’s met in person once has definitely violated that trust. Does Alex have regrets? Yes. Would he do it again in a heartbeat? Probably. 

This time, it’s Pez’s idea. Spring break is coming up, and he wants to take a trip to the beach in California with all of his friends- including Alex. He thinks there must be some kind of desperate plot to get him and Henry to share a tent involved, but it’s Pez, so he promised to ask his mom. It would be nice to take a little vacation with all his friends- Alex has never had a proper spring break before. And he really wants to see Henry in a swimsuit. 

Convincing his mom is going...less than great. 

“Please, mom,” Alex asks for the hundredth time. “It’s only three days, and June will be there, and if you don’t want me to camp I’ll stay with dad.”

“I don’t know, Alex…” she says in the way that really says _I do know, and the answer is no._ She’s pinching the bridge of her nose, and her eyes are squinted shut, and she looks about ready to drop where she stands. Alex doesn’t say it, but this would be a vacation for her, too. Three days of not worrying about Alex and taking care of Alex and making sure Alex has his meds. “You’ll have to deal with the plane and the airport, and camping with your oxygen will be such a pain.”

“They have oxygen on the plane. Dad has spares at his house, I can pick them up from him and it’s not even a big deal.”

Ellen raises a weary eyebrow. “Have you talked to your dad about this?”

“Yes.” No. 

“And he said he’s okay with it?”

“He did.” He did not. 

Alex’s mom hands over her phone, and he knows he’s fucked. “Call him. If he says yes, on speaker phone, you can go.”

She watches him intently as he dials the number, praying his dad won’t pick up. He does, of course, after two rings, voice too loud on speakerphone. 

“Ellen! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Your son,” she pointedly does not say _our_ , which she only does when she’s mad at him. “Says you gave him the go-ahead to go on a trip to California with his friends for Spring break?”

“I did?”

“Hi, dad,” Alex cuts in quickly. “We talked about this last week, remember? You were telling me about your tomato garden, and I said, ‘oh, I’d love to see it, if only I was allowed to come to California.’”

 _Tomato garden_ is Alex’s safe word with his dad. If Alex is ever caught in a lie with his mom, or wants his dad to agree to do something that his mom won’t let him, tomato garden is the code to let his dad know what’s going on.”

“Oh- oh! Yes, yes, I remember _mijo_. I told Alex he can come if he wants to, and I have all of his backups here waiting for him.”

Ellen eyes Alex suspiciously and purses her lips. “You’ll have to check up on him. Make sure he has his meds, his extras, everything.”

“Of course. Look, the kids can even use my beach house, if you’re worried about camping.”

After a moment of tense silence, she concedes. “Fine. But if something goes wrong, I swear to god, I’ll skin both of you and turn you into rugs for my office.”

“Charming as ever, Ellen.”

  
  


The day of their flight, Alex meets Nora, June, Pez, and Henry at the airport. Pez is already dressed for the beach despite the chill of early spring, sporting a brightly colored hawaiian shirt and pink sunglasses shaped like flamingos. He has a suitcase in one hand, and a walking cane in the other. Henry moves Pez’s hand towards Alex to give him a fist bump. 

“Glad you could make it!” Pez says cheerfully. “Now that the gang’s all here, shall we go through security?” 

Pez has to go through a separate line, and Nora and June get their way ahead, leaving Alex and Henry to wait in line together. Henry looks comfortable in a soft gray tee shirt and chino shorts, smiling a little nervously. His left leg cuts off just below the knee, and Henry shifts his weight back and forth with discomfort; Alex reaches down and gives his hand a squeeze. 

“I’m really glad your mum agreed to let you go,” he says, ducking his head down a bit to murmurr it straight into Alex’s ear. 

“I am too,” he looks down again, and makes an exaggerated gagging noise. “ _Boat shoes_? Seriously?”

Henry gapes, positively affronted. “They’re very comfortable!”

“God, I chose the worst person to have a crush on.”

Before Alex can contemplate what he just said, he’s mercifully saved by the TSA agent waving him forward. He gets a pat-down and tries not to laugh when Henry gets pulled aside for a random security check. 

They get food at one of the little cafes at the airport, and Nora buys a disposable camera and insists they get a picture in front of their gate. They get priority seating, and Alex sits squished between Henry and Pez, who’s already asleep. They get him hooked up to the oxygen on the plane, and when he finally has time to relax, he notices Henry is a little paler than usual.

“Hey,” he lightly touches his arm. “You okay?”

“Oh, yes,” his voice is shaky, but he smiles. “Just not the biggest fan of flying, is all.” 

Alex takes Henry’s hand and squeezes, lacing their fingers together. “You can squeeze my hand when you’re scared, okay?”

Henry squeezes, and Alex rests his head against his shoulder. He knows it’s dangerous, what they’re doing. He knows that purely platonic friends don’t behave like this in most cases. But since their late-night ice cream run, something has shifted in their relationship. They’re not dating, Alex doesn’t date. But there’s _something._

Henry is a nervous wreck for most of the flight, but Alex shares his headphones with him, and he feels his muscles relax. They don’t talk, just sit together, hands held, Alex’s head resting in the junction of Henry’s shoulder. 

Alex’s dad picks them up from the airport, crushing him and June in a bear hug in the process. They stop at his dad’s house to pick up Alex’s things and for a bathroom break before he drives them down to the beach house. 

It’s a cute little cottage, painted a pale blue and decorated with sea shells and a deck that leads right to the beach. There's only two rooms, so they divide it by boys and girls, and immediately change into their swimsuits. The sun is already setting by the time they get to the beach, but June builds a bonfire and they roast marshmallows. 

He watches Henry the whole time; the way the flames illuminate his face, his easy smile. Pez somehow convinced him into wearing a hawaiian shirt, buttons open, and Alex can’t help but stare at Henry’s chest. He wants to reach out and run his hands over his skin, kiss the dip of his collarbone, but he doesn’t. Instead, he pours all his frustration into roasting his marshmallow to perfection. 

June pulls out a cooler and starts handing out drinks. Alex finds himself transfixed by the bob of Henry’s Adam’s apple as he swallows, tracing the path of a stray drop down his throat, his chest, his stomach, down, down, down. He drinks until the buzz in his head is louder than the pounding of his heart. 

In the morning, they head down to the beach with blankets and towels and eat their breakfast sandwiches in the sand. Alex watches Nora and June splash around in the water as he sits at the edge, cool ocean lapping at his heels with the tide. Henry sits behind him, shirtless and warm, and Alex leans his head back against his chest. 

“You came all the way to the beach just to read?” Alex teases. Henry smiles above him, corners of his eyes crinkling beneath his sunglasses. Besides them, Pez attempts to build a sand castle blind. 

“Would you rather use someone else as a human pillow?” Henry pokes back. Alex shakes his head and closes his eyes, settling deeper into Henry. 

“Read to me.” 

Henry chuckles. “Bossy today, aren’t we?” Still, he clears his throat dramatically, jostling Alex in the process. “ _I lie awake at night, drunk on Shiner and way too many campfire marshmallows, and stare at whorls in the wood panels of the top bunk, and I think about coming of age out here. I remember when I was a kid, freckly and unafraid, when the world seemed like it was blissfully endless but everything still made perfect sense. I used to leave my clothes in a pile on the pier and dive headfirst into the lake. Everything was in its right place. I wear a key to my childhood home around my neck, but I don’t know the last time I actually thought about the boy who used to push it into the lock_.’”

Alex smiles in the warmth of the sun, basked in the glow of Henry’s voice, Henry’s arms around him, Henry’s breath rising and falling behind him. “ _The Waterloo Letters_?”

“Of course. I always have my copy when I’m with you.”

Alex thinks. He thinks about his life, not his inevitable death; how, before Henry, it all moved so slowly, everything black and white. He thinks about how, with Henry, he sees in technicolor. He thinks about how he falls asleep and wakes up to Henry’s words every day; he thinks about his face, and how much it aches lately because of how much he’s been smiling. 

He’s not one of those people who thinks their life is worthless without love. He’s not dependent on Henry for his happiness. But Alex _wants_. He wants to know Henry more than anything in his life- he wants to feel every inch of skin beneath his fingerprints and taste the sickly sweetness of a milkshake on his lips. 

But he’s dying. But Henry’s father died of the same disease and he can’t make such a wonderful person go through losing someone the same way again. But his life is too complicated to share with someone else. But but but but but but--

“Alex? Are you alright?” 

He pulls away from Henry as if he’s been burned, and feels a stab of guilt when he notices how his expression drops.   
“Fine. I’m fine, I’m. I’m gonna go help Pez build his sandcastle.”

They don’t talk again the rest of the day. Alex keeps his distance, keeps his eyes down. He sits between June and Nora at dinner and avoids him when they go back to their shared room. When he’s sure both Henry and Pez are asleep, he opens the door as quietly as possible and pads over to June and Nora’s room. Finding the light on, he knocks lightly and pokes his head inside. 

He must show his emotions on his face, because June stops immediately in her unpacking and says, simply, “Sit.”

Alex takes a seat on the end of the bed and puts his face in his hands. Everything has moved so quickly since getting here, he hasn’t had any time to process anything. Now it’s all coming out at once, and he’s holding back quiet sobs while June rubs his back and Nora carefully pries his hands away from his face. 

“What happened?” Nora asks quietly, quieter than Alex has ever heard her before.

“Am I a selfish person?”

“Yes, but that’s irrelevant right now. Tell us what happened.”

Alex takes a shuddering breath and closes his eyes; he feels June’s nimble fingers running through his curls. 

“I like Henry. A lot. But I can’t...I can’t--”

“Hey, hey, shh. It’s alright, Alex, just take deep breaths.”

Alex does not point out that he can’t; he knows she’s only trying to help. He squeezes his eyes shut tighter, and all he can see is Henry’s face, shining and radiant in the sunlight, apples of his cheeks tinted pink with sunburn. 

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Nora gets him the trashcan from their room, and Alex leans forward to put his head between his knees. June keeps her hand in his hair, gently stroking and humming. 

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” She coos when Alex is done. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sighs, his throat raw and aching. 

“I’ve had this...thing going on with Henry, since I visited you guys at American.”

Nora snorts above him. “We know. He won’t shut up about it.”

“I like him, and he likes me, and. God, everything he does- he’s amazing.”

“So what’s the problem? You said it yourself, you like him and he likes you. I think there’s a pretty obvious solution here.”

“Is this about his dad?” June asks gently. Alex groans and scrubs a hand over his face. 

“I promised myself I wouldn’t date anyone, and I’ve been _so good_ about keeping it, but I think...I think I was only good at staying out of a relationship because I hadn’t met Henry yet. There’s this part of me that feels like it was, I don’t know. Fate or destiny or that bullshit. But I can’t...I can’t put him through that again. I won’t.”

“Alex, listen,” Nora squats down in front of him, balancing herself with her hands on his knees. “I love you, but you’re being a total fucking idiot right now. Henry is crazy into you, and I don’t think he cares about all that. I mean, of course he cares, but I think he’s willing to risk a little sadness, if he can be with you.”

“I agree with Nora. But I also don’t think we’re the ones you should be having this conversation with.”

Henry is unmoved in his bed, Pez’s snores filling the room; Alex falters for a moment to wonder if this is a mistake, but his mouth is moving without his consent. 

“H?” He whispers. “You awake?”

“Always.”

It’s dark out, pre-dawn light hazy and gray, but Henry still looks beautiful. He looks tired, dark circles under his eyes, but he doesn’t complain as they walk, Alex’s backpack slung over his shoulder. The air is salty-smelling and cool this early in the morning, and the stars are still visible over them. They walk along the shore, sand between their toes, hands grazing as they swing by their sides. 

“I wanted to talk to you about something,” Alex tries. He can’t help the slight waver in his voice, but if Henry notices, he doesn’t comment on it. 

“Anything.”

“I…” He stops walking, partially to catch his breath, partially because he feels like this is a ‘standing still’ kind of conversation. He looks Henry in the eye and sees fear; he looks Henry in the eye, and sees himself reflected back at him. “I know I said I just wanted to be friends. But that’s not what I want. And I know it’s not fair to ask you to go through the same thing with your dad again, and it’s selfish of me because. Because I’m a grenade, and one day I’m going to blow up, and I don’t want you to be another casualty.”

“Alex,” Henry steps forward, encroaching on Alex’s space, and takes his face in his hands, thumbs mindful of the cannula. Up this close he smells like sandalwood and soap and Alex is reminded of the sweatshirt hanging in his closet. “No one is making me do anything. I want you, I want _this_ , terribly; I know the risks, and I want it anyway. You don’t have to worry about me, love.” 

The pad of his thumb swipes away a tear that Alex hasn’t even realized has fallen. “I know you don’t believe you deserve love, but you do. You deserve _everything_ , because this world is cruel, and it takes and takes and takes, but you are _good_ . You are so good, Alex. ‘ _Most things are awful most of the time, but you are good’_.”

Alex sniffs and lets out a little, wet laugh. “You’re quoting the book.”

“Sometimes, when I’m feeling overwhelmed, it’s easier to express how I feel with someone else’s words. What’s that Jane Austen quote again? _‘If I loved you less, I’d be able to talk about it more’_?”

Alex doesn’t point out that Henry just used the word _love_ to describe how he feels about him; he lets it wash over him and roll down and out of his mind. They’ll have time to talk about it, later. He looks up at Henry, leaning into the warm comfort of his hands on his cheeks, and decides. 

“I can’t promise it’ll be great all the time. My life is complicated, and it sucks sometimes, and I’m not always pleasant to be around. But if you’re willing to try…” he takes the deepest breath he can. “Then I am too.”

Henry’s grin is blinding. “I’m in; one hundred percent.” They take a moment to just smile at each other, and then Henry’s leaning closer, and one of his hands has slipped down to hold one of Alex’s hips. “Can I kiss you? I think I might die if I don’t.”

Alex smiles slyly. “Well. We can’t have that, can we?”

Henry’s lips taste how he smells- smoky, clean, and like _home_. His palms are warm against his skin, and his mouth is soft, and he’s careful to avoid the canullas and stop for air when Alex needs it. Alex thinks briefly, that if it came to a decision between breathing and Henry, he’d toss his oxygen tank into the ocean and do it gladly.

Inside, three twenty-somethings watch from the window. Two of them are pouting, but the one in the sunglasses is grinning ear to ear as he’s handed stacks of cash. Pez _never_ loses a bet.


End file.
